


Life of the Party Spooktober Writing Prompts

by MysteriousBridge



Category: Life of the Party (Web Series)
Genre: I apologize for nothing, Nyxrising Industries, Short writing prompts, life of the party, spooktober prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousBridge/pseuds/MysteriousBridge
Summary: A combination of spooky prompts and Inktober prompts mashed together as writing prompts for October.  Based on the characters and worlds created by NyxRising Industries for their D&D web series 'Life of the Party'.These are short scenes inspired by the writing prompts - none are canon in-game, just the first scenes that came to mind with the prompts.





	1. Prompts 1-11

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters, settings, etc. etc. and so on. All character credit and LotP-world credit goes right to the lovely and talented folks behind Life of the Party. Please go check them out here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYd5Do92b0AKjecbv23WhWo4wrcUfCZy8
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

**10/1 - Favorite Character / Danger (Couldn’t pick a favorite so I chose at random)**

A flash of blue-white light, deadly heat and energy striking home in the bandit’s chest. Sharp, coppery blood and ozone warring with the stench of waste and death, her stomach threatening to purge her own bile into the mess as she spins around, eyes white with power. Feeling that old unease creeping up her throat, staring blindly at the misshapen face of the last bandit as he advances. As an oily grin splits his dirt-caked mouth, the storm within her intensifies, yet cannot find a way out – a sudden force blocking her magic, chaining her as effectively as manacles. A soft horror wraps her spine as she retreats a step, bumping into the broad face of a nearby boulder and looking for an exit. Left. Right. Both paths are blocked. Her magic is gone. 

_ Shit. _

* * *

**10/2 - Comfort / Nightmares**

She can hear it. The crackling of the foliage, tendrils snickering across the cracked shale floor. She is frozen to the spot, feeling her stomach drop as the creature comes toward her. Spreading wider, grotesque, a swelling mass of green swallowing the hall beyond. Her eyes frantic, desperate to find an ally – but she is alone. A soft hiccup of fear involuntarily escapes her, and suddenly the vines are there, on her, cloying and grasping and _squeezing_ –

_ \- Rough fibers digging into her throat _

The smell of rotting vegetation and fear in her nose, in her _ mouth - _

_ \- wide eyed and screaming, she can’t move _

Screaming without sound, her throat is on _ fire – _

_ \- A dull flash, screams, pain – _

“Sariel! Sariel, wake up!”

Scrabbling out of the blankets, sweating, hair in her face and fresh tears still trailing down her pale cheeks. Shaking, she tries to focus on the hand reaching toward her. The thin fingers, the short, curved claws, the odd color in the firelight – _ Astra _. Blinking, she looks up at the tiefling’s face, concern and exhaustion etched around the golden eyes and deepened by the firelight, and turns her back, curling back in on herself. She doesn’t speak, not when he sighs in resignation, not when she feels the blankets being placed back over her thin shoulders, not even when he begins to hum softly as he goes back to keeping watch. As her shoulders relax, she can hear the smile in his tune, and when his hand gently falls on her shoulder, she does not move it away.

* * *

**10/3 – NPC / Critical Failure**

"Do you think they made it?"

Askepi glanced up, tongue snaking forth from his pointed snout to scent the humid evening air. Two more travelers on his skiff today had more than made up for the extra time in the heat, and the conversation was welcome. Two of his kind had come, catching him as he had begun to unmoor the boat, and offered good coin for a quick exit. Now, with the gentle lapping of waves the only sound other than their voices, he couldn't help but overhear them talking near the stern.

The other one spoke, voice drifting over through the fog. "I don't know. I hope so, if they listened to us they might."

A sigh, followed by a soft, contemplative hiss. "I hope so. As long as they stay out of the water and away from the trees, they'll be fine, right?"

Silence.

* * *

**10/4 – Formal / Phobia**

_ Finally _ , he thought, _ this is something I could get used to. _

Cassian lazily swirled the delicate wine glass, the sanguine liquid within swishing with a soft grace as his eyes skimmed across the mingling crowd. An airy melody still managed to flow above the constant murmur of conversation, the occasional high-spirited laughter, and the _ clink _ of expensive glassware. Courtiers and nobles swept grandly past, swathed in ludicrously expensive fabrics and jewels, and he inclined his head in the barest of polite acknowledgement. Despite the flash of wealth, those were not the most powerful people at this gala. They were not the person they needed to find.

Flicking his gaze across the ballroom with a practiced air of boredom, he finally spotted a pale figure clad in a dusky violet gown near the upper balcony railing, deep in conversation with someone out of sight. _ Well well well, what's this now? Who's Sariel managed to chat up? _ He raised his wineglass to a passing servant, leaning forward for a refill in an effort to get a better view above. He could barely make out reddish-gold fabric near her, and something relaxed in his gut that he hadn't realized was tensed. _ If Elyse is there, she'll be fine. _ He muttered his thanks to the server and resumed his position against the marble column, scoping out the crowd again. Sariel could look after herself, but he had a hunch Elyse was better suited to court intrigue than his fellow elf. A bubble of familiar laughter burst off to his right, and he turned his head to see something that almost cracked his face with a smile.

Two tall, laughing figures were knocking around on part of the dance floor, attempting to dance at what he could only assume was supposed to be a waltz. The light glinted off of the shiny pearl tips of Astra's horns as he bounded around with Boblem, who was having difficulty keeping his balance in the shoes he'd been forced to wear. That didn't seem to be stopping him, though, and the pair careened around nearby dancers who - thankfully - simply laughed along with them and gave them a very wide berth. Cassian suppressed the smile but could not hold back the snort, the sound swallowed by another burst of laughter. _ Nice job 'blending in', _ he grumbled in his head, _ I'm sure no one will suspect us now. _ Resigning himself to having to find their mark on his own, he looked back once more toward the bulk of the crowd and froze. Ice rained down his spine like shatterglass and all the blood in his body raced to pool in his feet, rooting him to the spot.

_ Oh shit. _

Somehow, by some curse of the gods, the one person he did _ not _ want to see again tonight was cutting a steady path directly toward him. The sharp crack of bootheels echoed in his ears and drowned out all other sound, save the rising thudding of his pulse keeping pace with the approaching steps. He could feel his face darkening and cursed himself, unable to tear his eyes away from the figure, black leather and brocade crested with a small bronze emblem at the shoulder. He knew that symbol well - had stared at it for what felt like forever, across rooms, campfires, hallways. Knew exactly how many feathers were etched carefully into each wing.

His throat felt stuffed with lead, convulsively swallowing around nothing as the panic began to shake his limbs in an unseen yet unmistakable tremor. _ No. No no no. Gods, no. _ His worst fear. His damnation to the Nine Hells. Anything but this.

_ Oh Gods. Anything but feelings. _

* * *

**10/5 – Music / Ghosts**

"Astra?"

Renard shoved aside a particularly hefty branch, bits of bark and sap sticking to his gloves as he pressed hefted the limb out of his way. The tiefling could not only climb like an acrobat, but he also could see in this blasted darkness better than the man currently swearing at the ground as he yanked his boot out of a mudhole. He rubbed the back of his glove across his mouth and called out again, anger and exhaustion edging out concern.

"Astra! Where the bloody hell _ are _ you?"

Silence. Renard grumbled and made to take a step, but paused, his mind racing. Silence. His voice had not echoed, not as it had when he began trudging through the forest loam. No crickets, no night beasts making their sounds. His hand strayed slowly down to his hip, hovering over the grip of his sword as he gingerly pressed on down the path. His footsteps seemed unnaturally loud, though he knew the moss softened the impact near to nothing. 

_ There. _ A low note, almost imperceptible. Another. Mercifully, he could hear music drifting from the end of the trail, what sounded like humming lilting through the air. Letting out a breath, he pressed forward, already thinking up all the admonishments he was going to shout at the tiefling for this stunt. Presently, he reached the end of the gently-trampled path, a large pair of trees framing the edge of a clearing beyond. Somewhere beyond there, the unseen singer continued their gentle hum. Renard stepped forward, intending on bursting through with righteous anger, when he again skidded to a halt. Gooseflesh shot painfully up his arms, and his pupils contracted beneath his mask as he stared at the trees. He knew. 

Another gateway.

He leaned back, finally catching a glimpse of what he'd missed. There across the opening was a misty glow, dark and sparkling in the air between the boughs. This didn't feel like the last one, though. This one felt... final.

He turned and marched back the way he'd come, refusing to look back at what he'd almost done. Whomever was singing was none of his concern. He'd look elsewhere. The humming rose a notch from behind him and he started, sprinting through the underbrush back to camp.

**10/6 – Battle / Halloween Costumes**

Boblem made his way down the lane, merrily stuffing candy into his mouth as he made his way into the next neighborhood. The pickings had been good in this village - who knew they had such holidays with so many treats! He adjusted the straw hat pinned to his hair and wiped chocolate from his mouth, careful not to smudge the scarecrow face that Astra had painted on. There was one more street to go, then he would meet up with the others to go back to the inn.

He paused, ears catching the sounds of a scuffle. Wrapping his hand securely around the handle of his candy bag, Boblem scurried to the side of the nearest house, glancing around to the source of the noise. His eyes widened as he saw several men surrounding another, hitting him and tearing at his clothing. He tightened his grip and ran forward, swinging the bag with all his might.

_ CRACK _. Something - the candy apple? - added enough weight to the sack that it collided with one ruffian's jaw with a resounding snap, sending him spinning to the side. The others looked up and tore off, leaving one man bleeding in the road and another rubbing his swollen jaw. Boblem hovered over the injured man, unsure what to do, whether to scream or fight. He was alone now.

_ All alone. _

* * *

**10/7 – AU / Were-Beasts**

Cassian pressed his back up against the wall as hard as he could, willing himself to somehow become invisible as he heard the rabid snarls of the creature as it savaged some other poor soul inside the labyrinth. He didn't know which companion of his it was - he knew which ones he prayed it _ wasn't _ \- but no time now. The emperor had promised freedom to whomever avoided his "pets" and made it to the center, and he planned on being one of them - even if he was the only one. 

Slowly, deftly, his footfalls made no sound as he slunk away from the beast as it devoured its meal, scurrying around a corner and dashing down another segment of wall. Somewhere around here should be a mark, or a chest, _ something _. He had paid the servant too well to be cheated, promising both gold and torment in the same breath, and had watched the page vanish into the maze the night before to fulfill his task. 

There! A depression in the bricks, a white chalk mark, nearly unseen in the moonlit darkness. Cassian hurried right, slithering into a gap between two dense hedges and shoving into a clearing. The center! He had made it, he was going to get out, his crimes forgiven, he was getting _ out _ \- 

A howl, long and triumphant, sounded from behind him. Another answered from just beyond the clearing, and something began crashing through the brush ahead. Cassian stopped, his jaw hanging open and his eyes dilating in fear.

_ There were two. They hunt in pairs. _ _ Oh, gods _

Closing his eyes, he began mumbling what could have been a prayer or a spell as the sounds grew closer. One way or another, the hunt ended tonight.

**10/8 – Water / Dark Forest**

Astra pressed his back against the trunk of the tree, the back of his shirt becoming cold and damp from squashing against the moss. His tail twitched nervously, wrapping around his ankle as if to soothe himself as he forced himself to look forward. The stream was black, a shimmering, undulating road cutting through the midnight forest. The constant whisper as the current swept along was almost comforting.

Almost.

Swallowing with a painful click, Astra slid himself along the slimy bark, keeping himself parallel with the water. His bag _ had _ to be somewhere along the bank, he _ knew _ he had dropped it somewhere close by, but could not make himself get closer to the water. His boots stumbled over the gnarled roots of the trees as he moved to the next trunk, thanking whatever gods could hear him that they grew so closely together at the banks. One step, then another, toward a slight break in the trees - _ there _! From the corner of his eye he spotted the familiar bundle, sitting roughly a foot from the burbling stream. A rush of relief swept through him as he widened his steps and scrambled over the roots, landing on the moist earth of the riverbank. He snatched up his bag, shaking a bit as he exhaled and turned to dash back through the woods. He'd made it, he'd found it, he could go back n-

-_ splash. _

It was as is the ground had vanished. Astra felt himself frozen, floating in the nothingness of fear. One sound, one small wet splosh behind him. He knew.

It had returned for him.

* * *

**10/9 – Fears / Masquerade**

_ Not again. _

She slammed the ornate door behind her, ignoring the crash as a framed mirror was shaken loose from the impact. Dust swirled around her as the silks from her costume brushed against the detritus, forgotten room dressings and crates half-covered with cloth stuffed into this darkened storage space of the palace. She hooked her thumbs under the edges of the elaborate mask and wrenched it loose, snapping the ribbons that had held it secure and sending it flying across the room to shatter against a crate. _ How in the hell Renard wears that fucking thing all the time, I'll never know _, she thought bitterly as she shoved the bolt across the door and stomped further into the storage room, gripping onto the rough edges of one of the crates with unfeeling fingers.

_ I almost did it again. _

Her muscles clenched and the wood cracked slightly with the force of her grip, small crackles of electricity sparking in the air like static. The past few days played across her mind's eye, the fear and betrayal in her friend's faces, the confused hurt as her fingers crushed the air from Astra's throat. The days of nothingness afterward, sick, empty hurt churning her insides. The promise of redemption, of earning back that favor - and then tonight. Feeling that same sweetly poisonous voice in her ears, seeing nothing but enemies in the faces of her friends, reaching out and feeling the power gathering in her hands - 

With a snarl, she kicked backward as hard as she could, bursting the crate behind her and causing a small avalanche of fabric to spill out. Breathing harshly, she ground her teeth together and willed herself to calm down, digging her fingers into the wood hard enough to snap the edge but not letting go. She had somehow managed to stop herself before doing the unthinkable - _ again _ \- but just barely. Dragging her breath in through her nostrils, she made a decision. This couldn't happen again - she would not allow it.

_ Only one thing left to do... _

* * *

**10/10 – Wildforms / Slasher Movie AU**

Renard and Sariel stood back to back, each clutching a mallet from the camp's croquet set in their bloody paws. Renard kept his eyes on the door, sweat rolling down his vulpine face to drip onto his gore-soaked counselor's shirt, a bloody handprint standing out starkly on his shorts. Sariel shook as she stared out of the single window, trembling as her tail curled beneath her, high-pitched whines escaping from her long snout. The stench of death clung to their noses, ears twitching for the slightest sound outside the small locked cabin. Thirty seconds. A minute. Five minutes. Sariel's shoulders began to quake, and she sat down on the floor with a thump, wrapping her paws around herself and hugging the mallet to her.

Renard didn't turn, but flicked his tail irritably. "Sariel, _ get up _ ," he hissed, sharp teeth biting at the words. He didn't dare move, not with that monster running loose on the campgrounds. "Get up before that _ thing _ gets in here!" He backed up a step, rear paw connecting with her shaking form and nudging her roughly. "It already got Astra and Elyse, and I don't know where the hell Cassian is - I'm not losing you too, now _ get up! _"

The image of their bodies lying cold and abandoned near the dining hall, displayed like a warning, had sent her screaming before and almost did the same now. The only save was her silent sobbing choking any noise from her throat, her thoughts swirling in fear. That face, that mask, white as the bare face of the moon slashed with crimson, and the dull silver flash of a huge blade. 

A flash of lightning, and both Renard and Sariel looked up at the window to see the bone-pale mask against the glass, arm cocked back and coming toward the thin glass. Sariel bayed in fear and scrambled back, claws scrabbling on the wooden floor as Renard stepped over her, feral growling rumbling from his pointed face. The window shattered under the blow of the figure's fist, glass raining down inside of the cabin as Renard charged forward. He swung with a scream, driving the head of the mallet into the side of the figure's head and connecting with a solid _ thwack _. The figure stumbled to the side of the window and Renard turned, screaming to Sariel - 

_ "RUN!" _

* * *

**10/11 – Flower Crowns / Fey Magic**

Boblem and Astra grinned at each other, straightening the wreaths of snowdrops on each other's brows as they hurried through the glittering hallway. Colored glass covered the roof, sunlight twinkling down in a dazzling rainbow across the quartz-strewn walls, reflecting and sparkling like magic. Laughing, the two ducked and wove through the twisting hall, feeling pure joy bubbling up from their lungs as they made their way down the path. The opening was back here, they were sure of it, and any concerns they had melted away as the light poured over them. Further and further, practically skipping stop down the hallway. Just a little while longer, and they'd be back home wait with everyone.

Boblem let out a whoop and ran ahead, chest heaving from <strike>exhaustion</strike> laughter as he gleefully sped into the distance. Astra giggled, a high-pitched <strike>screaming</strike> tinkle in the air, like <strike>screaming</strike> church bells. Pushing onward, he dove to catch up with Boblem, legs pumping with <strike>pain</strike> adrenaline as he hurried. So close to home, and these lovely lights <strike>burning</strike> leading the way brightened his soul-

_ <strike>running through the burning field of the Feywild, trying in vain to find the exit, fighting the madness, the sounds of their miserable wailing swallowed by the flames, trying to find the portal, had to find it, the pain was too much, the burning</strike> _

Laughing and skipping, they continued down the tunnel, sure that they would be home soon, and laughing as the lights flickered a million colors down upon them.

* * *


	2. October 12th-19th Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next batch of my responses to the writing prompts for Life of the Party in Spooptober! :) I should say, some potential spoiler warnings for some of the last few episodes may be present, so... You've been warned. 
> 
> Again, all credit for and ownership of these characters belongs to Life of the Party and Nyxrising Industries! GO FOLLOW THEM!

**10/12 – Theory / Lights In The Dark**

_ Damnit! _ Renard pressed his hand against the pebbled surface of the building, bent double and heaving as he dragged air back into his lungs. He could hear the footfalls of the others behind him begin to slow as they approached, all of them breathless from the chase. They'd run the better part of the town chasing after these... _ things _... and suddenly they'd vanished into the thick shadows surrounding the dilapidated manor house across the way.. Bleeding, exhausted, their little merry band looked more like bedraggled beggars than anything else.

From somewhere behind him, the slick and rolling voice of Cassian rose to his ears, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. "You do realize, Renard, that this is the perfect opportunity to say: I. Told. You. So."

Renard whirled on the elven mage, the grimacing snarl on his lips causing his mask to rise slightly. "Would you _ shut _ the _ hell _ up, you infuriating bastard?! If you're so smart, you figure it the fuck out!" He advanced another step, Cassian glaring at him but not giving ground. With a frustrated growl, Renard clenched his fist and whirled, forcing himself to march toward the manor and away from slugging the decorated elf's pretty face. He ignored the wheezed shouts of the party, clenching his jaw to distract from Astra's broken cry.

The thick, unnatural charcoal fog parted and whirled around him, engulfing him within seconds and obscuring him from the street. Strangely, he could now clearly see the front of the crumbling stone edifice in the moonlight. Glass and brick littered the ground around the entrance, glittering like carnival glass among the overgrown weeds. Any door had long since rotted away, leaving an uneven black slashing maw leading inside. He could see no movement within, light unable to reach beyond the dismal hole. His boots crunched through the debris as he slowed his steps and began removing his right glove, eyes flickering back and forth behind the mask.

Renard inhaled slowly, the scent of neglect and dust tickling his senses, and stepped gingerly across the threshold. Slowly, faint outlines of objects became more visible, furniture and crates covered in sheets and wrapped in years of cobwebs. As gently as he could, Renard crept stealthily further and placed his bare palm against a tall wing-backed chair, the rotten-silk feeling of the dust beneath his fingertips making him grimace again. The upholstery suddenly seemed to glow from within, shining through the delicate webbing and lighting up the room. It was as if the place had been abandoned for decades - though it looked ransacked, the damage was long-ago covered in dust and weathered with age. No steps but his own disturbed the ground. 

His mind racing, Renard began to step forward again when he felt a sudden itching in his shoulder blades. A bolt of electricity shot down his spine and he clutched the handle of his sword and began to draw it from the scabbard - and froze. His limbs felt frozen, constricted by some unseen force, and his fingers spasmed and dropped the blade with a clatter and a cloud of dust. His back burned, but no noise could escape him. A shadow moved in the corner of his vision, growing steadily larger as it approached the glowing light, and the hair on his neck was the only thing that moved as it stood on end at the sound of a horrifyingly familiar voice.

"Ah, the wayward child. Time for you to come home, SteelSworn."

As the title reached his ears, Renard felt the panic well in his throat as the light was snuffed out by a suffocating darkness, a black bag swallowing his head and sending him into a terrifying nothingness. All was blackness - he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was drowning on dry land. He felt a cold hand wrap around the flesh of his wrist, and felt the pull of far-too-familiar magic as he was transported away.

* * *

**10/13 – Alternate Outfits / Trapped**

Boblem dug his fingers under the collar of his starched shirt, tugging it away from his neck as far as he could without tearing it. He knew he had to go along with the plan, and Cassian had explained to him how strange it would have been to be an octopus at this gala. He smiled despite his discomfort, sitting as still as he could rather than walk in the unfamiliar shoes he'd been made to wear. An octopus would have been suspicious, but the thought of an octopus wearing the frilly shirt and robes that Boblem himself was currently sporting was a thought that nearly made him giggle out loud.

Drumming his hands on his knees to keep from yanking at his clothing again, he tried to pick Elyse and Astra out of the crowd - then remembered that they were blending in somewhere, Elyse disguised and Astra invisible as they mingled with the archduke's guests. His smile faltered for a moment, then quickly tugged back up at the corners as he felt three taps in quick succession on his shoulder - Astra's signal that it was time to go. Boblem stood up, hands splayed out for ballast, and began to shuffle toward the corridor that led into the dining area. Just before the main double doors was a small alcove hidden by the frieze work, shielding an entrance into the butler's pantry. Boblem waited until two portly gentlemen went ahead of him into the dining room and snuck into the alcove.

He knew he was supposed to wait here. This was part of the plan. What was _ not _part of the plan, however, was the decorative moulding shifting behind him with a barely audible crunching sound. Boblem spun around, jaw hanging agape as he tried to make sense of what was happening. He slammed his hands against the woodwork, but it was as immovable as a mountain. Boblem turned back toward the interior of the alcove, watching as what had looked like the pantry door vanish from sight. A trap. He had fallen into a thieves' trap, one meant to entice and entrap would-be sneak-thieves with the promise of hidden riches. 

Now it held a Boblem, all on his lonesome, quite literally lost among the crowd. His breathing quickened and he again tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling the air around him thicken with his panic. _ All alone. _ He couldn't even call out to find out if Astra had seen what had happened. _ I'm alone _. He couldn't give them away, couldn't risk his friends - his family.

_ I've lost them again, _ he thought with a sob _ . _His chest constricted and he spun in place, searching desperately for an exit, a crack in the wall, anything that looked like an escape.

* * *

**10/14 – Fire / Danger**

Sariel raised her hands, eyes blazing with an iridescent white light, and Elyse fell hard on her back as a huge ball of flames roared from the druid's palms and hovered in the air, the raw destructive power of the fire swirling just feet above her. The acrid smell of scorched hair assaulted her nostrils as she rolled away, smothering the singed bits of her hair and clothing against the dew-soaked grass. She came out of the roll into a crouch, eyes darting between the licking flames and the expressionless face of Sariel as the elf's head turned in her direction. 

Elyse sprinted back toward the campsite, her arms and legs churning with the effort as she tried to escape the roiling fireball that was as wide across as Sariel was tall. Sweat poured down her back, her skin blistering as the fire gained ground on her. Screaming in pain, she dropped again and blindly aimed a bolt of electricity behind her, trying desperately to strike her friend down before being swallowed by the possessed druid's spell.

The ground crackled at Sariel's feet as the lightning struck just in front of her, but her body halted it's forward progress. Her impassive face betrayed no emotion in her luminescent eyes as her arms rose higher, directing the huge ball of flames above where Elyse was sprawled on the ground. Trembling in pain and fear, Elyse reached out her charred hand toward the druid, her voice a wrecked whisper compared to the roar of the fiery sphere. "Sariel... please..."

Without even a twitch of an eyelid, the pale elf brought her palms down swiftly, and the blazing maelstrom hurtled toward the pleading form of the sorcerer.

* * *

**10/15 – Seasons / Nightmares**

The town was wrapped in a frozen silence, the thick, noiseless peace of a deep winter's night. A glittering white crust shone under the moonlight, unbroken but for small animal tracks near the edges. Every window was a sightless black eye at this hour, no movement behind the frosted panes to be seen save for the shape of a figure in the upper rooms of the inn, seeming to shift uneasily as it kept vigil over the dozing thoroughfare. 

Elyse scrubbed a hand across her tired face, trying to rub some circulation back into her chilled skin. Her eyes flicked wearily around the darkened streets, trying to pick up any signs of movement at the limits of her vision. Nothing moved except a few errant flakes of snow here and there as they slid off of overflowing roofs and branches. The sorcerer yawned, jaw cracking in the cold air of the room and breath momentarily fogging up a small patch of glass.

There was no use in trying to sleep again tonight, she mused wearily, feeling the weight of the hour deep in her bones. The dreams had come again - jibbering, screaming horrors wearing the mangled, bleeding faces of her friends, rotting claws dripping ichor clawing into her flesh. The demonic imitations of Astra and Boblem, teeth like jagged headstones protruding from their unnaturally stretched jaws as they pierced the muscles of her calves, blinding pain shrieking through her nerve endings. The icy touch of death as the corpse hand of Cassian wrapped around her throat, his one remaining eye fixated on her as her body froze and breath ceased. The screams of Sariel and Renard, condemning her, damning her in a deafening alien cacophony.

Shaking herself abruptly, Elyse pulled herself out of her reverie and vigorously rubbed her arms, as if trying to force the images out of her with the heat from her hands. Static still crackled faintly in her fingertips, and she glanced back over at the smoking remains of what had once been her bed. Her _ rented _ bed, she reminded herself, inwardly groaning about having to explain that in the morning. She huffed and turned back to the window, resuming her watch as the rest of the town slept on, undisturbed.

* * *

**10/16 – Romance / Critical Failure**

Elyse felt her cheeks blazing with heat as she ducked her head, trying to hide behind the tall figure of Boblem and fan some cool air toward her face. "Fucking hell, she _ winked _ at me, Boblem, she saw me _ staring _ at her," she hissed under her breath. Her stomach rolled, suddenly nervous at the prospect of _ actually talking _ to the woman seated on the half-elf's other side. Okay. Ok_ay _. She could do this. She could be suave, for once. She could - 

((Rolled: 3))

"Excuse me, Miss Lady, Ma'am?" The voice of Boblem cut through her thoughts like a pitcher of ice water in her face. "My friend here wanted to say hello to you, but I think she thinks you're really pretty, and she got nervous. Her name is Elyse - say hello, Elyse!" Boblem stood up - _ TRAITOR _, her mind screamed silently - and stepped away from the bar entirely, leaving the half-crouched figure of Elyse directly in view of the tall, grey-skinned woman she'd been unable to tear her eyes from before. 

This close, she was unmistakable - despite the hood half-drawn around her face, there was no denying that the Countess herself was seated less than five feet away, holding a wine glass up to a soft, bemused smile. She sipped her drink slowly, watching as Elyse straightened up in an attempt to save face, and chuckled deep in her throat. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Elyse." The words rumbled from her throat, a gentle sound like small tumbling pebbles accompanying the words. Elyse swallowed and nearly choked on the air as the Countess placed her glass on the bar and stood up, towering over Boblem at her full height, and extended her large yet graceful hand, looking her straight in the eye with a smile.

((Rolled: 1))

Elyse wanted to take her hand and extend her own greeting. Instead, she blurted out, "You're much bigger than I expected."

Silence. The warm, welcoming glint that had been in the Countess' eye turned cold, and her hand stiffened in Elyse's grasp. 

_ Shit. _ "Shit, I mean - oh, fuck, I'm..." Elyse stammered incoherently as the Countess withdrew her hand with a jerk, shoving her stool backward as she stormed away.

* * *

**10/17 – Weapons / Phobia**

"I..."

Astra froze, delicate teal fingers clutched unfeeling around the handle of his dagger, staring blankly down at Renard who was shoving thick chunks of shredded vines off of his prone form. Tears began to slowly roll down the tiefling's face, the usually molten honey eyes pale with shock. His tail was the only part of his body in motion, wrapped tightly around his left ankle and spasmodically clenching and releasing.

Renard stared up at him, face bloodied and bruised, but the aghast expression visible even with the ever-present mask broken something small and precious within Astra's chest. His fingers twitched and the dagger clattered to the ground, coming to rest amid the pile of destroyed vegetation by the mercenary's boot. The sharply-honed edge glinted in the moonlight, the silver blade stained with viscous fluid and plant matter. Astra felt the gorge burning at the back of his throat and bolted toward the trees, claws scrabbling over the giant gnarled roots as he dragged himself as far into the woods as possible before expelling the contents of his stomach into the undergrowth. A cloud of birds scattered out of the canopy at his intrusion, their judgmental cawing assailing his ears as he tried to hold his hair away from his face, body still heaving and gagging as he spat out the remnants sticking to his fangs.

"No. No, no, nonononono-" Astra pressed a fist to his mouth, slicing his lips with his sharp teeth as he tried to force the words down and screwing his eyes shut as his body was wracked with tremors. His other hand dug all five claws into the roots of the tree he had landed on, his body craving the stability but the guilt of wounding another living thing driving a stake into his core. He could see the battle replayed against the back of his eyelids, see his own hands driving the weapon again and again into the thick appendage of the herbaceous horror, the only thought in his mind to save Renard from the suffocating grasp of the vines. 

_ But his face... That _ look _ ... _ Astra wrenched his hand away from the tree root, snapping two claws in the bark without reacting to the pain. He slammed both fists into his knees once, twice, and shoved himself unsteadily to his feet. The concerned shouts from behind him grew louder, and Astra hurried across the nobbled ground again, refusing to turn and see that face again, condemning him, the word unsaid but written in the judgement of Renard's eyes.

_ Monster. _

* * *

**10/18 – Treasures / Ghosts**

Boblem slid down the sandy rock wall, the angle just enough for him to gain speed but not drop into oblivion. He landed feet-first in a soft dune of dirt, toes sinking into the earth as he laughed out loud. The others were coming down now, he could hear their shouts and whoops as they hurtled down the rock slide behind him, and he scurried out of the way as Astra came rolling out behind him.

"Come on, guys, the map said it was this way!" Boblem grabbed Astra's arm and helped him up, pulling him toward the open cavern and an opening to the far right. As more people landed behind them, the two tall figures rushed toward a dark corridor carved into the rock walls, teeming with phosphorescent lichen. Somewhere through here there would be a chest, and they would finally have the item that they needed to finish this mission.

Boblem and Astra ran headlong down the corridor, both spotting a large wooden chest directly across another room at the end of the corridor. The bright fungus seemed to streak past like lightning as they hurried, nearly tripping over each other as they fell on top of the chest.

As soon as their hands touched the rough wooden lid, a loud grinding sound came from behind them. Astra gasped as Boblem turned to see a large stone disc rolling across the doorway, cutting off the sight of their party running toward them. Trapped. They were trapped. They pushed themselves upright and looked around the circular stone room, seeing nothing but the disc and the chest within.

An eerie bluish light began to pulse from inside the chest, smoky tendrils eking out of the cracks in the wood. The boys stepped back, hands immediately hovering over their weapons, as the figure of a large man-like figure floated through the lid, gaunt jaw hanging open and arms outstretched toward them. 

_ "Thieves! Vagabonds!" _ The voice seemed to come from everywhere, yet the figure's mouth did not move. _ "You DARE to defile my property! You shall DIE!" _The ghostly figure floated toward them, skeletal claws raking the air trying to reach them. They both tried to step back again, but a cold wind seemed to push them from behind, shoving them into the surprisingly-solid grip of the wraith as it dug the frozen bones into their throats.

* * *

**10/19 – Wild / Halloween Costumes**

Cassian clung to the trunk of the oak, fingers and toes digging into the bark of the trunk as he tried his hardest to hold still. The guards were still below at the base, grumbling among themselves - none of them had looked up and seen him yet, but his luck couldn't hold out forever. He kept his face against the trunk as well, smudging the golden lines swirling across his brow. The expensive royal silks he wore were torn and filthy now, shredded from his hurried climb. The illusion had fallen, and they were still looking for him.

Cassian mentally swore at himself for trusting Renard with another brilliant plan. Now here he was, wrapped around a tree like some kind of lizard waiting to be caught and roasted. He could feel his grip slipping, and reached over to a nearby branch to pull himself higher. Thankfully, no leaves shook down from his impact - he briefly thought about thanking the gods but dismissed the notion - and he sat for a moment to catch his breath. This could only get worse from here - the best outcome would be that he spent an uncomfortable and sleepless night in a tree. The worst, he reasoned, would be his death; perhaps sleeping outdoors wouldn't be so bad in the end.

He looked down at the destroyed costume, an exact replica of the High King's best garments now not even good enough to be toilet rags. Something in him hurt at the sight. He'd been so proud of himself - _ they'd _ been so proud of him - and now his accomplishment hung like limp seaweed from his shoulders. He had no idea where the other could be - they had scattered like insects as soon as the alarms had sounded, when they knew their disguises had faltered. He flicked a bug off of his knee and glanced around, hoping to find some way out of this mess - _ without _ the insufferable mercenary mucking it up this time.


	3. Oct. 20-28th Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is another round of the Spooktober Prompts for Life of the Party. Same disclaimers as before, all credit for characters goes to Nyxrising Industries, go subscribe to them, you know the drill. :)
> 
> Final three prompt responses will be posted on Halloween! :)

**10/20 – Dancing / Were-Beasts**

The soft, sweet melody wafted like smoke through the air, as though a child's music box was slowly plunking it's last notes in the evening fog. She forced herself to keep going, nervous fingers clawing into the dew-soaked earth as she crept silently toward the softly-glowing firelight. As she grew closer, she could smell something wonderful, a thick smell of meat roasting over flame. It rose, blocking out the scent of the earth and the wet, loamy smell of sodden fur. The melody started again, seeming to pull her closer with it's baleful notes. Something about the music was familiar, dragging a strange feeling of drowsy longing up from deep within her chest. There was no going back now - she  _ had _ to see, had to know. 

Presently, she came within feet of the clearing's edge and slowly lifted her gaze to the scene before her. A simple pit had been dug into the ground, and a roaring fire now crackled and spat as fat dripped from the slab of meat roasting within the flames. Several figures had their backs to her - large, unnaturally-shaped bodies covered in all manners of matted fur and dried material. Two other figures were moving gently to the music, bodies swaying and twirling effortlessly despite their inhuman shapes as another creature plucked the strings of some unseen instrument with it's claws.

She paused, footsteps circling somewhere off to her right. She raised her head slowly, trying her hardest to remain under the shadow of the draping trees. There it stood, powerful legs bent at impossible angles, tail flicking back and forth as the snout swiveled around, nostrils flaring as the creature scented the air. She held her breath, willing it to move on, abandon it's meal and search further into the woods so she could steal the roasting meat. The thought of it caused her stomach to grumble, and the figure swung around, the wolfish face grinning down at her. A large grey-furred paw reached toward her as an unearthly growl broke from the creature's lips, yellow eyes gleaming against the blackness of the forest.. 

"Welcome home, sister."

* * *

**10/21 – Festival / Dark Forest**

"It's just up ahead," Boblem called ov er his shoulder, pushing aside a half-broken log and waving his friends forward. "You'll see, it's so amazing and beautiful - you'll all love it!" Astra and Renard came first, the swordsman's eyes flicking around for signs of danger that the awe-struck eyes of the bard might miss. Behind them, the lithe figures of the two elves came into view, Cassian guiding Sariel along with a strangely gentle demeanor. Boblem cocked his head, watching as the wizard's dark fingers held the pale ones of the druid as they passed him and crossed over a slick spot on the ground. 

"I know, it's fucking weird, inn'it?" Elyse's laughing whisper floated to his ears through the shadows, and he had to stifle a laugh. It  _ was _ strange seeing Cassian being outwardly kind, but it made Boblem happy nonetheless. He liked it more when they all got along - when Renard and Cassian would fight, it brought up feelings that he would rather not feel anymore. Boblem smiled at Elyse and leaned down to whisper back as she passed him.

"Yes, it is strange, but she's had a rough time and he feels some kind of obligation to be nice. I say we let him be nice for as long as it lasts."

Snorting, Elyse continued on as Boblem dropped the log back down and brought up the rear of the traveling party. They made a motley crew, but they were his family now, and he wanted them all to see themselves that way. Family - not strangers lumped together for one reason or another, but a cohesive unit that cared about each oth-

"What the  _ HELL _ is that?!"

For a split second, not a single one of them moved, Renard's outcry reverberating through the air. Then the group rushed forward, already beginning to fan out in a defensive posture as Boblem ran and broke through to the front of the group, flinging his arms out to halt them in their tracks. 

"Wait! Wait, please! This is what I wanted to show you - look at how beautiful it is!" His face was screwed up in a desperate plea as he held his hands out to his friends, but softened into wonder as he turned to look at what had startled Renard. 

Past the edge of the overhanging vegetation sat several oversized tents, banners and ribbons waving welcome in the soft night breeze. The entire grounds were lit by some unearthly glow, each conical canvas building giving off it's own soft ethereal light in shades of violet and blue. The edges seemed to sparkle in the soft glow, glittering in the darkness. 

Astra leaned forward, golden eyes still fixed uneasily on the canvas structures ahead of them. "Boblem, what is this place? Where have you brought us?" The worried faces of his party members all turned to him, slightly dampening his spirits, but the young half-elf forced his grin wider and tugged on Astra's hand.

"Isn't it lovely, Astra? They put this here for us," he said, eyes beginning to glow with the same violet hue as the witch-light of the tent. "They've invited us here - and we shouldn't refuse them." Turning a suddenly-deaf ear to his friends' protestations, he began to drag the tiefling along toward the tents with surprising speed, the rest of the group stumbling to catch up to them. Boblem smiled as he gripped Astra's hand tighter, not seeming to notice the bard's desperate yanks as he tried to pull free. They would understand. They would all see that here, they could all finally be a family. 

Forever.

* * *

**10/22 – Fierce / Masquerade**

"I trust you understand the need for discretion, my friend. Your presence here should not be noticed, nor questioned. Is that understood? 

Cassian spared a glacial look at the half-orc gentleman sitting before him, his manicured brow arching in feigned shock. "You do me a disservice, Your Grace," he said, the rolling words sincere and melodious. "I would not betray this mission, nor would any of my group. We shall see and not be seen." He bowed low, keeping his sharp eyes raised to the dark, disbelieving ones of the Duke.

Raising a large, moss-colored hand, the Duke waved dismissively at the wizard, nodding him toward the large wooden door behind him. "Find the spy, elf. Prove your silver tongue isn't cheap tin."

Cassian bristled as he pushed the door open, stepping aside and letting the heavy oak swing back into place. He paused to take a deep breath, running his hands over his robes to smooth them down and soothe himself. Cheap.  _ The nerve of this ass _ , he cursed in his head.  _ One tiny little fuckup and you go from favored consort to shit errand boy. _ He composed himself, drawing himself up to his full height, and gracefully strode down the marble hallway toward the southern wing of the palace, where the ball was in full swing.

Amber eyes slid across the crowd as he slipped into the room, unnoticed behind one of the tall white columns flanking the entrance. Their mark was here somewhere, but they'd had a devil of a time spotting him - the lavish, feathered extravagance of the costumes swirled together and made for damned good cover. He followed the wall to the next doorway, glancing disinterestedly at the dancers as he deftly climbed the curving staircase, pushing through another doorway and out onto a terrace overlooking the gardens. Floating lanterns adorned a small pond, flowers and shrubbery framing a small courtyard.  _ There! _ Cassian dropped into a crouch and looked through the bars of the railing. Standing by a large maple tree, seemingly deep in conversation, was the man they needed. He couldn't see his companion, but a throaty feminine laugh floated through the trees. 

_ Elyse. _

Cassian swallowed silently, his throat suddenly dry at the thought of the sorcerer alone with this cretin. He knew she could handle herself - she'd definitely handed each of them their own ass at some point - but this man was supposedly very powerful Very..  _ charming. _ Cassian's lip curled in a contemptful (jealous? surely not) sneer, leaning closer to the railing and straining to listen.

Another laugh, this one low and suggestive, bristing the hair at the back of Cassian's neck (out of concern, that's all) as his fingers curled tightly around his wand. He ought to give this bastard a zap in the ass for...  _ Sounding _ like that at her. Ignoring the part of his mind screaming that he was being irrational, the wizard aimed a well-placed bolt directly at the back of the man's robes. A streak of light shot from the gnarled wand and - 

-Slammed into an invisible barrier and dissipated into the air like smoke. The man turned, his red eyes gleaming like fire coals in the darkness as his mouth split into a wide, cruel smile, moonlight glinting off the sharpened teeth.

"Nice try, sparkler." The voice was alien, harsh, completely unlike the smooth grumble he'd heard earlier. The creature grabbed Elyse's wrist - her face, to Cassian's horror, was slack and uncomprehending - and vanished into thin air, the stab of fear in Cassian's heart the only thing left behind.

* * *

**10/23 – Divided / Slasher Movie AU**

Elyse scrambled up the stairs, cursing herself even as she raced to the second floor landing. The front door was blocked, a fruitless effort to keep out what had already been hiding inside. The slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from the kitchen, maddeningly slow compared to her thundering footfalls. Breathless, she threw herself through the doorway of her bedroom, yanking open the nearby closet door and jamming the two together. If anyone tried to push the bedroom door open, the doorknob of the closet would block it from opening further. 

She rushed over to the computer console, frantically smashing keys and slapping the side of the monitor in frustrated panic. The screen blinked once, twice - and a green cursor blinked, waiting on a command. She tried the police department's TTY line, managing to log on just as the footsteps crested the upper landing. Swallowing a have of fear, Elyse typed frantically:

/911 EMERGENCY, PLEASE SELECT (P)OLICE / (F)IRE / (E)MT / (O)THER

/P

/POLICE: PLEASE ENTER ADDRESS REPORTING

/1354 CYPRE

The bedroom door slammed into the closet doorknob, the masked face of the black-robed figure gaping as it leaned in through the small gap in the doorway. The white, ghost-like face stared impassively as the figure raised its arm, brandishing a sharp butcher's knife. Elyse screamed and abandoned the computer, heading for the window overlooking the driveway. She could hear the doors slamming together behind her, the deafening staccato beat playing out as the flimsy hollow doors began to crack. She flipped the thumb lock and shoved the pane upwards, throwing a leg out onto the sheer roof face and climbing quickly out of the window. She glanced down below, her stomach roiling as she saw how far down the concrete was. There was no choice, though, she had to jump - 

As a hand clamped down on her wrist, all she could do was scream.

* * *

**10/24 – Tavern / Fey Magic**

Music, loud and boisterous, rang loudly through the central room of the tavern. Astra whirled around on the stage, the strumming of his lute perfectly accompanying the joyful cacophony of the house musicians as they blared over the cheering crowd. Elyse and Sariel, both drunk as lords, were dancing around with a small group of others, laughing and kicking their feet with strangely graceful movements. Boblem was playing some intricate game in the corner with three other patrons, his head thrown back in a belly laugh as he threw a cup full of dice to the table. Cassian sat on the bar top, legs crossed and foot tapping the air in time with the music as he chatted with the blue-skinned bartender filling several glasses beside him. The energy crackled with celebration and life, a protective bubble of elation holding this moment in time.

Renard stood in the doorway of the tavern, his hand still half-raised in an aborted farewell as he watched his party lighten their spirits.  _ Melora knows they need it, _ he thought, feeling a small pinch somewhere far below his chest. He hadn't wanted to actually care for any of them - well, Astra maybe, the innocent soul, and he had begrudging respect for Elyse and Sariel - but he had fought beside all of them, protected them, been saved by them. He knew he was too far invested in their lives to just leave now.  _ Which is why I  _ have _ to leave,  _ he chastised himself.  _ They'll only be in more danger if I stay. _ He looked up once more at the cheering revelry of the tavern, eyes committing the image of each smiling face of his party before turning on his heel and stepping off the porch into the evening fog.

"Going so soon, friend?" He spun in the entryway toward the sound, heart already racing. The rich, melodic voice came from the shadowed east corner of the tavern, where a tall thin elven man dressed in black leathers leaned casually against the ragged wooden siding. His hair fell about his shoulders in a silvery curtain, blue-tinged from the evening light and making his pale skin seem translucent. Renard flexed his hand over the handle of his rapier, fingers at the ready, as he scrutinized the stranger through the eyeholes of his mask. The man watched him benignly, a small smile curving his thin lips.

"I'm not your friend," Renard said warningly, taking a step sideways and further away from the man. This wasn't the time or place for a skirmish, not with everyone in such high spirits inside. Still, he kept his hand poised and ready as he moved. "I am going on my way and you on yours, stranger, and that will be all if you value your life."

The elven man threw back his head with a bark of laughter, gesturing with a wave of his hand at the tavern door. "And am I to assume that you value yours? Cheap words from a man who would leave the real treasure behind." He stepped forward, the lights from the torches at the tavern's entrance finally giving detail to his face. Renard inwardly gasped - the man was... well,  _ beautiful _ . High, sharp cheekbones and an aristocratic nose, pale blue eyes and frost-white hair adding to the otherworldly presence. He pointed a pale finger toward the open doorway, face a smiling mask. "What you need most is there, friend. And you would abandon it?"

Dazed in the presence of this man, Renard slowly turned his gaze back to the boisterous room, once again spotting his friends celebrating and dancing without a care in the world. He heard the footsteps of the stranger approaching, but his own feet would not budge, his head would not turn. He could only listen as the man continued, his eyes darting from person to person.

"You, of all people, would abandon your morality?" His eyes landed on the joyous face of Astra, cheeks flushed from exertion and elation. "Abandon what makes you a good man?" Sariel,  _ smiling _ , leaning down to pat Boblem on the head as she twirled past him. "You would desert everything you love out of fear?" Elyse, breathless from dancing, clinking a glass with a genuinely-smiling Cassian as they cheered on Astra's performance. The stranger's voice rumbled right beside his ear, warm breath against his skin. "Are you such a coward, boy?"

" _ SHUT UP! _ " Rage, shame, everything burst out of his throat in a raw scream, eyes twisted shut and hands clamped into white-hot fists at his sides.

Silence - nothing but the sound of his shout echoing through the darkness, then - 

"....Renard?" The cautious voice of Boblem rose to his ears as he unscrewed his eyes, blinking and panting as he looked around. The tavern was gone - had never been, in fact. They sat as they had before - Astra with his lute near the fire, Sariel and Boblem listening and clapping along, Elyse and Cassian holding a water skein between them as though frozen while passing it over. All of them staring directly at him, faces curious, concerned, even amused at his outburst. A wisp of movement caught his eye behind where Elyse and Cassian sat - the face of the strange elven man, grinning viciously in the fog - then it was gone. His heart clenched - released - and down he went, slipping into an overwhelmed unconsciousness.

* * *

**10/25 – Magic / Lights in the Dark**

Astra rested his back against the rough-hewn stone of the cavern, the cool surface blissful against the throbbing wound on his shoulder. Around him his party lay tucked into their bedrolls, their faces slack and blissful in the deep relaxation of sleep. The trek through the Underdark was wearing on them, body and soul - not a single member of the group were free of injury, and all were exhausted from the most recent skirmish with a monstrous creature. The tiefling shuddered at the memory, still picturing the swaying, menacing eyestalks and the dripping, salivating fanged mouth.

His hand drifted to his side, gently but protectively cupping his traveling bag. Something within him relaxed a bit, tension easing off as he reassured himself that it was still with him. That  _ thing _ had almost destroyed his bag, and the thought of losing the contents within chilled the bard's blood more than the dampness slowly seeping through his shirt and clinging to his back. Ignoring the creeping feeling of moisture down his spine, Astra patted the bag once more before stretching his arms out in front of him, trying to restore blood flow to his tired limbs. Just one more hour, and his turn on watch would be over. He popped something in his shoulder, rolled them back, and peered through the greyed-out darkness to the three tunnels carved into the other side of the cavern wall.

The passages into the cavern stood as black sentinels in the darkness, portals leading who-knew-where in this blasted underground warren. They had emerged from the central one several hours before, and had yet to determine which way was the correct path forward.  _ Maybe none of them are the way forward, _ he bemoaned silently _ , and we're just getting further into the depths of this place with no hope of escape- _

He jerked out of his melancholy reverie, instinctively reaching a hand toward the sleeping form of Renard as his eyes followed what had alerted him. A pebble, he saw, came to a soft stop a few meters away. Astra breathed out slowly. A tiny iota of rock had rolled out of place, nothing more, as though by accident. Astra did his best to appear like he was relaxing again, despite the fact that every nerve was now drawn taut. There was no reason for that rock to have moved, with nothing there to initiate it's journey. Unless...

Stretching his arms in front of him again, Astra muttered something under his breath and aimed his palms toward the pebble's place of origin, feeling the threads of magic coalesce and emerge with a jolt. In an instant, the darkness of the cavern was illuminated with a soft purplish-teal glow where the pebble had come from, revealing the outline of a crouching figure at the edge of an outcropping. With a shout, Astra dove toward the figure as his party jolted awake, all manner of chaos erupting in the underground cave.

* * *

**10/26 – Happiness / Trapped**

The water was warm, heat emanating from deep within the center of the bathing pool and seeping into her sore muscles. Elyse dropped her head back against the tiled edge of the pool, closing her eyes against the coils of fragrant steam. She could smell rich amber, a light swirl of sweetness, and a hint of something fresh and green that she could not place.  _ Definitely worth the extra gold, _ she thought, lazily kicking her legs under the water. This place at least offered a  _ private _ bathing chamber, unlike the last inn they'd shacked up in. While smaller, at least she would have no interruptions this time.

Keeping her eyes shut, her reached off to her right and picked up the half-drained bottle of whiskey, lifting her head and blindly taking a swig as her left hand gently cupped her arcane focus.  _ Same situation, same items, hopefully the same results. _ She placed the bottle down with a soft clink, waiting patiently as she began channeling her energy into the crystalline surface of the focus, blue-white light pulsing within.

Minutes passed, the only sound the soft hum of electricity and gentle lapping water. There was no rush, no hurry. She breathed in, out, fingers tracing patterns on the smooth surface of her focus. The liquor cruised through her bloodstream, an intoxicating duet with the lightning churning through her nerve endings.  _ It will happen, _ she chanted in her mind.  _ It will happen. They will come for me again. _

_ They have to. _

A cool thread of air rolled across her shoulders, goosebumps rising instantly as her eyes flew open. Nothing had changed in the cloudy room - several candles and a brazier were lit, flickering yellow light giving the room a comforting glow. The steam was thicker against the light, nearly opaque in places. She raised her eyes slowly to the polished silver surface, heartbeat speeding as she recognized the figure in the mist behind her.

"You're still here, are you?" The deep, guttural language rumbled from deep within her chest, reverberating off the tiled walls. The gentle breeze rolled over her once more, and she smiled contentedly, taking another pull from the bottle before continuing. "I knew you'd come back. Are you going to show yourself this time?"

The breeze swirled past, stronger than before, and the reflection of the figure vanished. Off to her left, the clouds seemed to thicken again, almost resembling a fever-dream outline of a humanoid body. The shape did not move save for the slight wavering of the steam as it rose from the water. Elyse swallowed, the lingering burn of the whiskey still present in her throat.

"Will you show yourself completely?"

The gentle chill wafted around again, but something felt... Off. Colder, a bite to the coolness that stung. At once, she heard the door bolt slide closed and the candles snuffed out.

"...Shit."

* * *

**10/27 – Darkness / CHOOSE FROM 1-3**

Sariel leaned over the edge of the parapet, eyes trained on the bright sliver of moon hanging low in the sky. Hands twisted around her string of beads, her lips moved in silent prayer as she begged for strength and guidance from her Lady of Night, the White Mistress. Her knees were bruised and sore, but still she knelt by the edge, rocking slightly as she beseeched her Shining Lady.

She knew she had betrayed her Lady, but she  _ had _ to be able to redeem herself, she  _ had to _ . There had to be some way for her to cleanse herself of this blackness, this sin upon her soul against her Beloved Mistress Moon. Screwing her eyes tight, she concentrated as hard as she could, sweat beginning to bead upon her brow.  _ Please, my Lady, my Guiding Light, forgive me for what I've done, I am your servant- _

A sudden shock ran down her spine, forcing her eyes open. She looked directly up at the white crescent in the sky, feeling her breath halt as it began to fade out of sight, taking all light with it. No lantern light showed in the town below, extinguished by the White Mistress's departure. Sariel felt her pulse race in fear, dropping her beads and gripping the rough, splintery windowsill. Something unnatural was happening. Something  _ wrong.  _

Pulling herself to her feet, the druid forced her head out of the window, searching the skies for any sign of the moon. A blank velvet canvas stretched impossibly far above her, not even a single star twinkling in its depths.

* * *

**10/28 – Monster / CHOOSE FROM 4-7**

"Oh come on, you don't think zombies are scary?" Renard shoved another handful of bread into his mouth, watching Boblem's face for any sign of deceit. The young half-elf was sitting opposite him on the riverbank, legs crossed and elbows akimbo as he chatted with the mercenary.

"Nah, they're just slow and stupid, they're not bad at all," Boblem replied, tearing off a piece of bread for himself and chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "Besides, they're easy to kill. Nothing too bad, as long as you can still walk you're usually fine. They just smell very bad." Renard laughed at that, watching the druid wave his hand in front of his face as though scenting something putrid.

"I have to give you that, they are disgusting. Well, what about bugbears? Beholders? Something has to scare you, everyone has  _ some  _ kind of phobia."

Boblem shook his head, inky black curls shifting in the light. "I guess I am not everyone, then." He grinned, stuffing the last of his bread in his face and chewing exaggeratedly. Renard huffed in begrudging amusement, rolling his eyes without venom.

"Yes, yes, you are the bravest one of our group, young Boblem. A true man of stone." Boblem preened at this, causing Renard to chuckle as he stood up to leave. Suddenly, a low hissing growl sounded from nearby, both travelers whipping around to find the source.

There, floating just off the water's edge, were two large reptilian eyes. Each one had to be the size of a goblin - this creature was  _ monstrous. _ Renard stared dry-mouthed as he heard a loud 'flump' noise, seeing the figure of Boblem topple to the ground in a faint.  _ Man of stone indeed _ , he thought, but could not bring himself to put any nastiness to the words.

After all, after staring at the size of the eyes staring hungrily at them both, even he was developing a fear of giant crocodiles.


	4. Oct. 29th-31st Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! We're finally done! Thank you for sticking around and reading these, and thank you for your patience in my posting delays. I hope you liked these short jaunts into the Life of the Party Spooktober challenge. 
> 
> All rights for characters, setting, etc etc go to Nyxrising Industries, go follow them!!!

**10/29 – Day Off / CHOOSE FROM 8-10 (Danger)**

Sariel sighed, poking the dying campfire with a charred branch, trying to coax any additional heat from the coals. The rest of the party had gone off to delve into the tomb again, and she had flatly refused - not like they had pressed her very hard, though. Jabbing the coals a bit harshly, she remembered the look on Renard's face as he'd tried to make 'it's not necessary' sound more like a good plan and less like 'you're weak and will hold us back'. Even with that ridiculous mask, she could picture the discomfort in his eyes, frown lines on his brow hidden under the bronze scrollwork. 

_ Weak. _ That's what they thought. Weak and fragile, unless she was out of her mind and savaging something. Something unstable, fractured, something tiptoed around and spoken of in hushed whispers of false concern. "Bah," she muttered, tossing the branch aside and reaching for more logs for the fire. If she was so weak, would they have left her to guard the camp, to keep the fire going? Did they suddenly forget how much  _ more  _ strength it took to be on her own? To fend off animals, bandits,  _ ghouls _ , for fucks' sake? She had survived this long, and she would survive longer than most of her party, destined to once again be alone.

Alone.  _ Again. _ Sighing, she chucked a split log onto the fire coals and took her seat once more, watching as the fire reignited and slowly began to lift the light around their camp to more acceptable levels. It was good to have a day where she wasn't expected to be social, she mused, resuming her poking of the fire with the slightly-burnt branch. It was tiring, and all they were doing was disturbing something long-forgotten, something  _ meant _ to be forgotten. If they wanted to have some ancient demon chasing them through the Nine Hells, that was on  _ their _ heads, not hers. Sariel smiled bitterly to herself.  _ At least I know better than to poke about where I shouldn't _ .

Pressing her fingers into the cold, hard earth where she sat, she hummed softly to herself as she felt her energy seeping into the neglected dirt, slithering through the hard-packed soil and cruising around the perimeter of the campsite. Nothing amiss - at least not in the immediate vicinity, she corrected herself. Nothing to worry about. Sariel crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned back, enjoying the warmth that was now emanating from the firepit. The danger, for once, was elsewhere.

* * *

**10/30 – Drinking / (CHOOSE BETWEEN 11-13) (Fey Magic)**

The warm summer evening was thick with humidity, night-blooming flowers mixing with the still-cloying heat of the day yet to dissipate. The windows of the tavern were thrown wide, spread in prayer for a breeze to break the heat. Those inside continually quaffed ale, trying to stave off the thickness of the night. As exhausted and inebriated as they were, none of the party wished to climb the stairs, as the upper floor was surely even more stifling than here.

The tavern-keeper eventually pushed several more flagons onto their table, bidding them all a good night and beginning to strip his sweat-soaked shirt even before he had entered his chambers. With some amusement, both Boblem and Astra retreated to the back garden, stumbling out to sleep in the grass where it was slightly cooler. Sariel followed shortly after, her slight form swaying against the press of whiskey in her body, and collapsed in a sleepy heap in Boblem's snoring lap. Elyse and Cassian were staring a bleary-eyed challenge at each other across the table, inelegant snorts escaping the painted elf as the sorcerer tried to keep her eyes from sliding out of focus. Renard, ever vigilant, was forcing himself to stare blearily forward at the wall past his two companions. That way, he reasoned, he could keep an eye on them without having to actually  _ look _ at them.

_ Because that would be a bad idea,  _ he chastised himself slowly, thoughts sludgy and slow.  _ Looking means you start thinking, and thinking about either of them is... bad... _

"You're not wrong, friend." The silvery voice rang in his ears once again and Renard flinched hard, shoving himself upward from the table and sending his tankard flying. As it landed with a splattery crash, he realized - as the room stopped spinning from his sudden movement - that no one else had moved. Elyse and Cassian were no longer glaring and laughing. They were... Well, they were  _ sleeping _ , he realized. Soft snores came from both of them, and the faint sound of snoring wafted in from the rear entrance as well. Renard swung his head around, instantly regretting it as nausea swept over him, and still pointed his sword straight and true at the source of the voice.

Once again, the tall elven man with moonlit hair stood nearby, this time leaning against the high wooden bar behind Renard's table. A soft smirk was barely visible, a ghost on his lips as he looked from the tip of the blade to the eyeholes of Renard's mask. His expression didn't even flicker as he stepped forward, putting the edge of the sword directly against his own throat. "If you feel you must, friend, then do so," he whispered, tone never losing an ounce of it's melodic geneality. 

Renard focused as hard as he could, keeping the tremble out of his arm but feeling the concentration birthing a low, thumping headache far behind his eyes. Slowly, so slowly, he whispered in a harsh rumble, "I'm not your friend."

The elven man raised a snowcap-white eyebrow and watched Renard, face still and impassive. Even so, he felt more than heard the tone change in the man's voice as he responded, "You could have been. It would have been better. You still don't know, do you?" 

Renard blinked hard, staring with sudden sobriety at the high aquiline features, the laughing, cruel eyes in a pseudo-friendly face. He felt a bead of sweat roll between his shoulderblades as he held his position, feeling the muscles in his arms cry out in protest. "Should I? You don't seem too memorable to me."

The white eyebrows narrowed at that, and Renard felt a sudden queer sensation, as though the floor had become a sucking pit of mud and he was sinking slowly to the knee in sludge. Heaving himself backward, he tumbled into his forgotten chair and went down, sprawling on the wooden floor. His companions slept on, blissfully unaware.

The elven man stalked over to him, features sharpening in the lamplight of the tavern. His chin grew more pointed, his eyes an alien blue. His now-skeletal hands, gnarled into claws, rose above him in triumph.

"Foolish, friend, very foolish," he crowed, his voice no longer a sweet melody but a discordant screech in the humid air. "I tried to help you. Not every day a  _ peasant _ gets help from a  _ KING! _ " The thing before him no longer resembled a man, but something pointed and foreign, something - a king -  _ oh, shit -  _

The Erlking. And he had insulted him. Renard scrabbled backward, reaching for his sword as the Fey King swiped a clawed hand toward his throat, the razor-tipped talons catching his flesh and shredding into him without mercy.

* * *

**10/31 Halloween / CHOOSE ANY 2 (Masquerade / Trapped)**

"Ten minutes, everyone! Ten minutes to go!" The jangling voice of the butler rang out over the cacophony of the party, the volume rising even higher in excitement as his words faded out into the din. The party-goers quickly re-tied their masks and straightened their costumes, crowds flowing in different directions as people shifted round for last-minute drinks and conversations. 

Astra adjusted the collar of his new performance costume, the rich violet material setting off highlights in his skin under the flickering candlelight of the ballroom. The feathered mask he'd snatched off of a table had thankfully matched, giving him the appearance of a strange yet regal bird with bright plumage. This was the last part of their plan - he just had to get everyone's attention right before the unmasking, so his companions could grab the items and slip out of the back of the mansion. That was all. Yet his tail flickered uneasily behind him. It seemed  _ too _ easy. That's what bothered him the most. Everything had gone so well - that  _ never  _ happened, not to them - 

Murmuring his apologies, Astra pushed through the swirling crowd and over to the doorway of the main room, the golden decorations inside shining like the inside of a forge. The All Hallows' Eve celebration was in full swing, ready for the final moment. All he had to do was cause a scene - a distraction - and that was that. He leaned back against a wall as a group of noblewomen squeezed past, feeling the board behind him give and swing him around, suddenly leaving him in blind darkness.

Gasping, Astra waved his arms around him, connecting with nothing but the wall behind him. A secret room? Some chamber, a closet?  _ What was happening? _ He turned and banged a fist against the wood, the voices on the other side drowning out his shouts for help. They could not hear him - would not hear him, in fact, for he was no longer truly  _ there _ anymore, anyway.

Where he was, though, would be much harder to decipher.

_ ("....And that's where we're going to end tonight!") _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked the first few pieces I wrote for these prompts! I'll have the next few sets uploaded every few days in additional chapters to keep this updated. If anyone's interested, I'll post the whole prompt list below. Thanks for reading!
> 
> 10/1 - Favorite Character / Danger  
10/2 - Comfort / Nightmares  
10/3 – NPC / Critical Failure  
10/4 – Formal / Phobia  
10/5 – Music / Ghosts  
10/6 – Battle / Halloween Costumes  
10/7 – AU / Were-Beasts  
10/8 – Water / Dark Forest  
10/9 – Fears / Masquerade  
10/10 – Wildforms / Slasher Movie AU  
10/11 – Flower Crowns / Fey Magic  
10/12 – Theory / Lights In The Dark  
10/13 – Alternate Outfits / Trapped  
10/14 – Fire / Danger  
10/15 – Seasons / Nightmares  
10/16 – Romance / Critical Failure  
10/17 – Weapons / Phobia  
10/18 – Treasures / Ghosts  
10/19 – Wild / Halloween Costumes  
10/20 – Dancing / Were-Beasts  
10/21 – Festival / Dark Forest  
10/22 – Fierce / Masquerade  
10/23 – Divided / Slasher Movie AU  
10/24 – Tavern / Fey Magic  
10/25 – Magic / Lights in the Dark  
10/26 – Happiness / Trapped  
10/27 – Darkness / CHOOSE FROM 1-3  
10/28 – Monster / CHOOSE FROM 4-7  
10/29 – Day Off / CHOOSE FROM 8-10  
10/30 – Drinking / CHOOSE FROM 11-13  
10/31 Halloween / CHOOSE ANY 2


End file.
